


Ἀνάγκη

by CamilleDuDemon



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Everybody Lives, Fake Identities, Fix-It of Sorts, Implied Relationships, Lovers To Enemies, M/M, Mentions of Violence, Past Relationship(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:35:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21923758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CamilleDuDemon/pseuds/CamilleDuDemon
Summary: [Fix-It fic] [MAJOR SPOILERS FOR TROS, READERS BE ADVISED!]After his envolvement with the Resistance has been discovered, Armitage Hux lives a secluded, lonely life on a mining planet, working as chief engineer under a false name. When a very much alive Ben Solo knocks at his door, Hux has to confront his old demons and let the past die, if he wants to live instead of merely surviving.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	Ἀνάγκη

I.

The gentle, womanly voice speaking softly behind him snapped Hux out of his thoughts.

Suddenly, he wasn’t on the Finalizer _– his Finalizer –_ anymore, surrounded by his most loyal men, but standing tall in front of a large, perfectly rectangular window, looking at the desolate landscape before his eyes without really seeing it. Where there was the vast nothingness of Space, now he could see dark, rocky soil. Tall buildings standing out in the gray sky and, in distance, the silhouette of the pines and another myriad of plants he could not name.

He wasn’t on the Finalizer anymore. Was it still floating somewhere, though, his flagship, his Star Destroyer? He didn’t know. And, certainly, dwelling on its fate wasn’t doing him any good.

Suddenly, he noticed that it had started raining, somehow, during the day --- again. The shithole planet he was currently living on was nothing more than a rainy rock orbiting around a pale star that rarely peeped out from amongst the thick, fat clouds that covered the sky almost everyday.

The weather didn’t bother him, though. He wasn’t in the mood for a sunny day and, besides, a lifetime spent almost entirely on board a spaceship had made his skin very sensitive to natural light. He could barely stand a standard hour or two in the sun, covered from head to toe, before feeling the urge of hiding in the shadows --- he had tried to last a little while more, though, if only to avoid standing out in the crowd of his new colleagues: a bad idea indeed.

“Are you okay, chief engineer?”

The voice was closer now. Hux casually flinched away before the woman could stretch her hand to reach his shoulder. He wasn’t in the mood for a touchy colleague either.

“Chief engineer?”, she timidly tried again.

Chief engineer, General…did it really make a difference?

A title, he had learned the hard way, was just a title after all. It couldn’t make any difference in the Grand Scheme Of Things. It was just a word, a fancy _something_ with which prolong his already pompous name.

Nothing that really mattered, in the end.

That was the hard-earned wisdom he had gained.

If someone would have dared to talk to him like that only a standard year before, he would have asked for their head in less than a beat. As Hux tried to regain a dignified posture by straightening his back and combing his now messy hair with his fingers, he thought it felt like another lifetime --- maybe even the life of someone else, a holo-movie or the tragic tale of a fallen hero someone could have found in a very old book.

He had lost the privilege of asking for anyone’s head the exact moment the Starkiller _– his Starkiller, the very foundation on which he would have built his power to take the throne and rule over the Galaxy –_ had been blown to pieces by the Resistance. What had happened after that was just the natural consequence of his slow and painful downfall, which had led to him being forced to live on a dumpster mining planet in the farthest corner of the Western Regions, designing pneumatic drills, TBMs and service droids for the Western Star Mining Company under a fake name.

He couldn’t deny it could have been much, much worse, by the way. He could have died for real, be cremated, his ashes scattered in the cold space floating forever.

No one would have read him a loving obituary, no one would have shed a tear lighting his pyre. No one was left that could have mourned him.

The woman cleared her throat, noticeably embarrassed. Finally, Hux turned to face her: engineer Karo, a young woman so short she could have easily passed for a kid, but brilliant nonetheless. She was handing him a cup of freshly brewed tea, a small smile curling her pale lips. Much to Hux’s dismay, even tea tasted like shit on that nameless rock.

“Sorry, Karo, I was…lost in thought. Thanks for the tea”.

When he grabbed the cup, his hands felt unsteady. The steam coming from the pitch black liquid inside made it difficult for him to breathe.

“Bad thoughts, I guess, chief. You look…upset.”

“Do I?”, he wryly said, while trying his best not to hyperventilate in front of her. _Slow, deep breaths. Inhale and exhale. Relax._

“Sorry. I didn’t want to disrespect you, chief”.

Hux shook his head. _Don’t mind it._ Soon enough, his hands started to feel firm again and he mentally congratulated himself for not having spilled a single drop of the disgusting tea on the floor. Something he had all the rights to be proud of, since the first months planetside he couldn’t have picked up a datapad without dropping it on the floor, after being hit by a totally random and unexpected flashback from his old life in the ranks of the First Order. Luckily for him, he was always alone when it used to happen, so he never had to make up an excuse for his pathetic display of weakness, as he called it.

“I’m just figuring out how to make a thing work, Karo, that’s it. Tight schedule. I don’t get enough sleep”.

Which was true, to some extent. He didn’t get enough sleep and he frequently skipped meals, but the reason wasn’t his job. Karo, however, didn’t have to know it.

He faked a faint smile and put the cup on his tidy desk. Karo smiled back, sympathetically.

“You should sleep more, chief engineer. Your hands were shaking. I’ve heard that sleep deprivation can cause that, among other unpleasant things…”

Hux nodded.

“Thanks for your concern, Karo. I’ll keep that in mind”, he replied, trying to sound as casual as possible. A long, awkward silence followed, until Karo broke it by stating that she had a lot of work to do too, and tiptoed back to her workstation, her heavy work boots thudding against the dusty durasteel floor.

When he was finally alone, Hux couldn’t help but sigh with relief.

In his not-so-chosen exile, he had taken the carefully calculated decision of living a secluded life, minimizing interpersonal interactions as much as he could --- or avoiding them entirely. Still, some of his colleagues – Karo was no exception – felt the need to engage him into conversations now and then, and clipped conversations were all they could expect from him. He never mentioned his past, nor talked about his personal interests which, for the record, weren’t many…it was a matter of personal integrity, after all, his safety depended on secrecy, and on the fact that the whole Galaxy – bounty hunters included – thought he was dead.

He was, in facts, dead. At least, General Armitage Hux was.

His first night at the mining base, Hux had even recited a drunk obituary to his old self. Now, to everyone, he was just the Chief Engineer, a ghost with no past, no hobbies and no sappy story to gossip about while having lunch at the cafeteria.

He couldn’t risk telling a single soul who he really was. No one could listen to the heroic tale of how a carefully crafted three-layer enhanced durasteel plate had saved him from a blaster shot in the chest, a well deserved shot nonetheless.

_Still._

Hux couldn’t recall clearly what had happened after Pryde had shot him, assuming he was dead. Someone had helped him out of the Steadfast – Pryde’s flagship – provided him with new, common clothes, some painkiller for his bruised ribs, enough credits to avoid starving and a new name. _And good luck, Armitage._

“Blessed be the oblivion”, he muttered, taking a sip of his awful tea and wincing with disgust.

_He had sold the First Order for some credits and a new name. Was that the price of such a gargantuan organization?_

That thought alone caused his stomach to churn painfully; he emptied its meager content in a self-cleaning trash bin and, shortly after, his tea suffered the same ungrateful fate. Needing some distraction, he tried to focus on the new pneumatic drill he was designing, a lighter and more powerful version of the old scrap the Company gave to its workers, and he spent the afternoon sketching and making complicated calculations for the mechanical department.

Survival mode required sacrifices, he had been born already aware of that, so in order to survive he had sacrificed _everything._ His past, his future, his very self…the Order.

There had been a time when he had thought he was _the_ Order, and that the Order was him. He was the spirit and the face of the organization, its best child, a tool meant to shape the Galaxy in the image and likeness of the First Order --- then Ren had happened. He had taken the throne and everything had rapidly gone to shit, hence his defection.

_His betrayal._

It had been only a faint idea, at first, an intrusive thought disturbing his already restless sleep, a malign whisper in the back of his mind once he had made sure Ren wasn’t listening anymore --- _once the Supreme Leader had confirmed his complete disinterest for his work and his whereabouts._

Only then Hux had started to come up with plans to dethrone the incompetent manchild whose only ability as a Supreme Leader was, apparently, that of draining the First Order’s resources without being able to wipe away the Resistance for good.

It was during an especially long and exhausting night cycle spent tossing and turning in his bed that Armitage Hux had finally realized he didn’t care about preserving the integrity of the Order at all, if he wanted to get rid of Kylo Ren. _Everything he had done, sacrificed, to strengthen and shape the First Order after his father’s assassination, was gone, destroyed, corrupted beyond repair. What was the point of fighting for the Order, when someone unworthy had stolen his rightful place on the top, condemning him to a pitiful existence of paperwork and humiliation?_

It had taken him long to establish his first contacts with the Resistance as a mole. Every single thing that had happened after had been the consequence of a balanced mixture of luck and carefully calculated moves, aided by the fact that Ren had no interest in keeping track of his movements anymore.

It could have been worse, though --- sometimes, that was still Hux’s only consolation, to be fully aware of the risk he had taken just to show Ren he could outsmart him, _to show everyone he could outsmart all of them easily._

Now, from the small office in the B tower on that shithole mining planet, former General Hux couldn’t help but wonder whether his ultimate sacrifice was worth it or not. Rumors of the final defeat of the First Order had started spreading even there, in the most secluded corner of the Western Regions. He wasn’t sure he cared anymore.

He was just a ghost, and ghosts were, by definition, detached spectators of the events. He had no voice and no role whatsoever. He was a man who had died long before dying, he only had to accept that.

On most days, when there was so much work to do, so much that even eating a decent lunch felt like an unexpected grace, it was rather easy for him to let go off the General and fully embrace the Chief Engineer.

On the other days, it took him half a bottle of spirit just to tolerate being still alive.

***

_When Armitage Hux enters his personal quarters on board the Supremacy, Kylo Ren is already there, waiting for him in an awkward martial position that doesn’t suit him at all. He’s not made for parades and unnecessary displays of power; he’s a man of action, a child of the battlefield, a diamond bathed in blood._

_Which are all ostentatious and excessively poetic metaphors to say that he’s physically unable to stand still for too long. Hux, however, can dig fancy metaphors – although in small doses, and only when they’re in his head. When it comes to reality, he’s much more of a prosaic man._

_“How did you get in, Ren?”_

_He doesn’t expect an answer, though. He has come to know Ren well enough not to assume he would answer when asked by anybody but Snoke himself._

_Hux gets a shrug in response._

_“Take that thing off your face, please, we’re alone”, he gently commands. Kylo Ren is such an obedient creature. The hissing sound of his horrendous bucket air-release system comes in synch with the soft thud of Hux’s boots being kicked away. When the young officer lifts up his gaze, he’s greeted by Ren’s dark eyes scanning him attentively, questioning._

_“Take a seat, Ren”._

_Again, he complies. Hux can’t help but gloat when he does, even if it’s clear that he hasn’t come into Hux’s quarters for a friendly chat and a sip of expensive wine. Ren has just come back from a successful mission, and he’s here to claim his reward for being such a diligent war-machine. It does still amaze Hux knowing how much this man – this boy – craves to be praised, how much he needs to hear that he has done a good job, no matter how insignificant his mission was._

_Since both Snoke and the First Order rarely compliment their officers for their success, Hux is Ren’s main source of praise words and rewards. He indulges Ren, telling him how good he is._

_For Hux, this is the only way to pry into Kylo Ren’s weaknesses, should the time come to confront him openly. Secretly, though, he hopes not to, even if exposing Ren’s degenerate behavior would benefit his position into the higher ranks of the Order._

_In the end, they’re the two faces of the same coin, both fighting to ensure the First Order its prosperity and supremacy over the Galaxy. Would it be so bad if they had fun while trying to accomplish that final goal?_

_“I’ve read the mission report, Ren. You did very well, I’m impressed. I haven’t seen the footage of the battle yet, but---”_

_Hux can’t even finish his sentence: Ren’s impatience has come to a breaking-point and the much bigger Knight of Ren is soon on top of him, devouring his mouth with sloppy, wet kisses, a spoiled little prince who wants it all, he wants it all, so eager to be touched again after starving and craving._

_Their clothes get gracelessly discarded on the polished floor and Hux finds himself tangled to Ren, so young, so beautiful, so powerful and so alive._

_As though Kylo is a goofy and inexperienced lover, Nature has been very generous in matters of sizing: Hux can forgive his puerile eagerness and his generalized sloppiness, if he can sit on him and fuck himself senseless, until he’s sated for good._

_Until they’re both sated for good._

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't posted anything in a while but, hey, it's my birthday (!) and I really, really need to bury myself into an alternate reality in which my precious boy Hux is still alive...although damaged, bc is a life without angst really worth living?


End file.
